BURNING LOVE

72

"The king?" Arthur muttered in response to the woman's words to his son, Prince Lincoln, downing a shot of vodka like water.

"I am the king!"

He stormed into the restroom, ripping off his clothes and scattering them on the floor. After testing the water with a grunt, he hoisted himself into the tub. As he positioned his other leg, he wobbled precariously.

He tried to regain his balance, but his right foot slipped. The vodka bottle flew from his grasp, shattering against the tiles. The impact propelled him out of the tub, and his head slammed into the unbroken base of the bottle. A shard of glass pierced his skull, blood spraying before stopping momentarily.

Another spray of blood erupted from his neck as a separate shard found its mark. He slumped back, crimson staining the floor like a burst water balloon.
Struggling to his feet, he stumbled out of the bathroom, vision blurring. "Help! Help!" he croaked.

Karis, one of his men, happened to be at the door, waiting to escort him. He had heard the first shout, stiffened he breathed out and looked up as his superior was heading toward him, meeting Pradesh's gaze he knew he also heard the king.

None of them reacted with surprise. They knew what was coming later for the man.  Whatever was happening behind that closed door, was a twist of fate, perhaps, but it brought them a shared sense of relief.
they looked away in silent agreement.

Pradesh withdrew a cigarette, offering one to the young man as they walked away. They knew the security cameras were disabled by the king's orders, ensuring their silence.

Reaching the control room, Pradesh settled into the farthest chair, making no move to activate the cameras. He was aware of the night's mission: to eliminate the king if fate had deemed him unworthy.

But hearing the king's muffled cries for help on the radio, Pradesh hesitated. He closed the radio on their end, then locked the control room doors. He squeezed his eyes shut, the sound of Arthur's past violence against women echoing in his mind.

Taking a deep drag of his cigarette, he exhaled slowly. "Let's see if you can survive this, King. If you do, you'll be a different man."

After a long silence, they turned on the cameras. The scene that greeted them was horrifying. The room was slick with blood, and Pradesh knew Arthur couldn't possibly be alive. He disabled the camera footage and leaned back in his chair, relief washing over him.

An unspoken tension, built from years of enduring King Arthur's cruelty, lifted from their shoulders. The weight of his tyranny, finally gone, felt surreal.

Pradesh transmitted a red code on a secure frequency to the Queen's guard, signaling an emergency within the king's quarters and the mission's abort. Three confirmation dots blinked back on his console.

Pradesh acknowledged Karis's gaze with a nod before crushing the burnt phone in his hand. He pocketed the pieces for later disposal. To avoid suspicion, they remained there for the next few hours, as usual, until the night shift guards arrived, they waited for them to take their places. Silence hung heavy in the air;the men said nothing, their superior had nothing to signal them which was, a familiar occurrence.

As soon as they arrived at the palace, a little past midnight, Lincoln stormed in, his anger barely contained. He yanked the wristband off his hand, his agitation evident.

"Mom how could he do such things ! I, I... it is not acceptable! His a li.."

Lydia, who'd had an exam the previous day as part of her ongoing PhD studies (determined not to be the least educated member of the Zurrow family), was thankfully asleep in the open space beyond. However, it wouldn't be long before her son's outburst woke her.